Excerpt: W.I.T.C.H.: The Power of Five - Book #1

The following is an excerpt from the book W.I.T.C.H: The Power of Five -
Book #1. I thought readers of this newsgroup might find it of some interest.

One

Taranee Cook walked into the courtyard of her new school. She cringed as she
looked at the sign looming over the entrance -- a big, green archway that
read Sheffield Institute.

Institute. Taranee still wasn't used to that word. She remembered when her
parents had told her the name of her new school.

Oh, yeah, Taranee thought, rolling her eyes behind her tiny, round specs.
That was just before they made me pack up my entire life and move to a new
city where the air always smells like salt water and the sidewalks are
overflowing with skinny fashion models.

"The Sheffield institute's one of the best private schools in Heatherfield,"
her mother had said, nodding briskly.

"You're putting me in an institution?" Taranee had wailed back.

Turned out, a lot of schools in Heatherfield were called institutes. It was
just one more way this city was totally different from Sesamo, Taranee's
real hometown.

She shivered as she wended her way toward Sheffield's front door, tiptoeing
around the puddles still left over from that thunderstorm the night before.
It had been a wicked downpour. Taranee must have spent an hour watching the
lightning bolts zapping the ocean just beyond her bedroom window. With every
strike, the lightning had seemed to inch a bit closer to her new cliffside
house. But for some reason, Taranee had barely flinched.

Scared of fire? she thought. Not even. Scared is knowing that the tofu
stir-fry Mom packed for me is going to be reeking by noon. Which means the
stylish Sheffieldians will have yet another reason not to sit with me at
lunch. The first reason being, of course, that they don't know I'm alive.

Taranee hopped around another puddle. But for all the leftover rainwater
this morning, one would never know the storm had happened. The sun was
shining and the sky was so blue it didn't look real. The stream of kids
trotting up the school's stone steps all seemed to be wearing the latest
fashions.

Just looking at all those strangers laughing and shouting hello to each
other as they rushed into the school made Taranee shiver again. It was only
her third day of school, and she was already dreading it. She yanked the
cuffs of her orange turtleneck over her hands and gazed up at the Euro-style
pink stucco building, complete with a mottled green copper roof and a big
clock. A big clock that read 8:08. As in, two minutes till she'd be late for
history class.

By the time she made it into Sheffield's main hallway, most of the kids had
rushed off to class. Taranee caught her breath and made a dash for the big
marble staircase. She was just about to launch herself onto the bottom step
when she skidded to a confused stop.

"Oh, man . . ." she whispered. "I have no idea where to go!"

After only two days at Sheffield, Taranee realized, as dread swirled in her
stomach, that she still hadn't mastered the maze that was her class
schedule.

She tore open her kente-cloth book bag and began pawing through it. Tofu in
Tupperware. Lip gloss. Eyeglass cleaner. Two shiny, new notebooks. And her
schedule? Nowhere to be found.

Just when Taranee was breaking into a cold sweat, she heard the familiar
clomp-squeak-clomp-squeak of frantically late sneakers behind her. She
glanced up to see yet another stranger. But this one was a skinny girl with
half a dozen cowlicks in her red hair and a chest that was almost as flat at
Taranee's. She looked lost, too. The girl dug her schedule out of her jeans
pocket and blinked at it. Then she spun around looking for an arrow, a trap
door, a sign from the heavens -- anything to save her from the dreaded first
day of school. (How did Taranee know this? That had been her, forty-eight
hours ago. She recognized the signs.)

Finally, the new kid's brown eyes flashed. She threw out her hands and
screeched, "So, what does a girl have to do to get to room 304?"

Taranee grinned as the girl stomped her green sneakered foot in frustration.

"How to get to room 304?" she answered. "Hope to get promoted out of room
303, maybe."

The girl's skinny shoulders shot up to her ears as she spun around to stare
at Taranee. Taranee tried to act casual. She didn't want the new kid to
think she was too excited to be making actual human contact or anything.

"Two days ago, I had the same look on my face," Taranee said, tossing the
longest of her randomly assorted, beaded braids over her shoulder. "I'm new,
too. My name's Taranee."

"Nice to meet you," the girl said quietly. Slowly, her shoulders unclenched
themselves. "I'm Will."

Taranee felt herself thrill inside. New-friend moment, she thought. Totally
worth being late to class.

"Would you please explain what you're still doing out here in the hallway,
young ladies?!"

Taranee cringed, and Will's shoulders shot back up to her ears.

"It's the principal," Taranee whispered to the terrified newbie, as the
source of that very angry voice bustled toward them. "Mrs. Knickerbocker."

Copyright © 2004 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

(Excerpted from the book W.I.T.C.H: The Power of Five; Adapted by Elizabeth
Lenhard; Published by Volo; April 2004; $4.99US/$6.99CAN; 0-7868-5257-7)

For more information, please visit the W.i.t.c.h. Web site,
www.clubwitch.com or www.writtenvoices.com.